


For the best

by aconite (aconite_fic)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 03:52:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18112739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aconite_fic/pseuds/aconite
Summary: Uther is the only one who remembers what happened in Camelot. His unwillingness to have children for fear of losing Ygraine again puts a strain on their relationship.All he wants is to keep his wife and children in his life.





	For the best

**Author's Note:**

> (rolls in after years of absence, presenting something i originally wrote years ago)
> 
> i didn't post it back then (at least i don't think i ever did??) because i was nervous about the themes it explores, however briefly, so please note the warnings:
> 
> TW for death (mother & baby during childbirth), mentions of transphobia

This isn’t the first time they’ve argued about this.

When Ygraine came home with Nimueh in tow, Uther should have known that this would be the last.

“I want a child, Uther,” Ygraine says, like he knew she would. Her voice is calm, but her hands are curled into fists by her sides.

Uther grits his teeth and turns away from her, his gaze catches on the portrait of the two of them hanging above the fireplace. The artist had miraculously succeeded in capturing Ygraine’s beauty, the kindness in her eyes and the wicked crook of her lip. He’d also managed to capture the grey hairs that Uther has carried since his youth, and his annoyance at having been made to stand still for a few hours too many. But there is something else about him that is obvious in the painting: the awareness that he had done it all because he was a simple man, astonished at the fact that he’d earned the love of the woman who had her arm linked with his.

Uther frowns and looks to his feet, knowing he’s taking too long to reply.

“What’s the point of having a child if you won’t be around to raise it?” he asks in the end. He looks up in time to catch the look Ygraine and Nimueh exchange.

They didn’t expect him to know about the risks. They didn’t know that he remembers.

“Even if that happens,  _you_ will be around to raise it,” Ygraine says quietly.

_And how._

Uther swallows down the shards of regret that cut their way up his throat. He shakes his head. “You can have it with someone else.”

Ygraine says nothing. She doesn’t pack a bag. She doesn’t slam the door on her way out.

“You’re a fool,” Nimueh tells him quietly.

“Perhaps,” he replies. “Did you warn her of the risks?”

“Of course I did,” she says, indignant.

“No, I meant before,” he explains. “Did you tell her of the cost your help comes at? I never knew whether she… Did it willingly.”

“Did what willingly?” Nimueh asks, eyebrows drawing together in her confusion. Uther looks at her for a second, and then he realises.

Nimueh doesn’t remember. She’s a doctor—and a friend, yes—but she’s not magic anymore. Not in the way she used to be, anyway. Not in this life. She doesn’t know what she did—what they all did to Ygraine all those years, centuries ago.

He shakes his head again.

Nimueh tilts her head to the side. “You’re going to let her leave you.”

“It might be for the best.”

 

When both Ygraine and the child take their last breaths minutes after he is born, the knowledge that he had no part in it brings no relief to Uther’s heart.

*

The next time around, a couple of hundred years later, he manages to convince her to adopt. Two beautiful girls join their family and they’re content for a while. Happy, even.

And then Uther’s working hours are suddenly too long. Ygraine’s sister seems to have an opinion on everything that’s going on in their home, whether it’s appropriate for her to know about it all or not. It becomes easier for them to be apart than not.

When Ygraine finally moves out for more than just a few nights, Anna hugs her mother and sister and helps them carry their bags outside.

“It’s not like they’re getting a divorce,” Uther hears her tell Morgana—he sometimes still wonders at the fact that Ygraine chose that name for her.

Morgana squeezes her hands in her own and nods, but there’s still hurt in her eyes as she glances between her parents. Anna hugs her again and whispers something that makes Morgana’s eyes screw shut and her arms wrap tighter around Anna’s slender frame.

 

A year later, they still haven’t filed for divorce, but they also haven’t spent more than a day together outside of holidays. Uther thinks he’s finally doing well at the single parent business.

But then he notices the dark circles under Anna’s eyes, and the worried looks she keeps sending him when she thinks he isn’t looking, and the bag she’s packed and left next to her door.

He watches her at dinner one night, and finally decides to speak up. “Anna?”

She flinches. “Yeah, dad?”

“Is something wrong?” he asks. “I don’t want to assume anything, but it seems to me that you haven’t been yourself lately.”

She’s quiet for a minute. “I’m…” She shakes her head and leaves her fork next to her plate, her hand flexing nervously. “My friends at school.”

“Yes?” he tries to encourage her. When she doesn’t say anything, he continues, “Are they treating you well? Has something happened?”

“No, no,” she hurries to assure him. “It’s just that they… They call me Arthur.”

Uther’s hand freezes with the fork an inch away from his mouth. There is a painful clench in his chest. “And why do they do that?”

“Because I asked them to?”

Uther stares at her—him? He should ask. Only, his brain is too busy going over conversations they have had lately and hints he might have missed and—

“Dad?” Anna— _Arthur_ says, voice cracking a little.

Uther clears his throat. “Arthur,” he says, and his heart feels full when he gets to say the name. “That’s a boy’s name, yes?”

“Yes.”

Uther nods and thinks for a minute. “You’ve got a lot to tell me. Are you satisfied with your current wardrobe? With your haircut? And your school, do they—”

He has to cut his speech short when Arthur’s chair drags across the floor and he’s in Uther’s arms seconds later, hugging him tight and shaking like a leaf. He mumbles something, but Uther just shushes him and rubs circles on his back.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” Arthur whispers in the end, then draws away, his hands on Uther’s shoulders. “My friends, they’ve had their parents throw them out. And I’ve heard stories… I didn’t know how you’d… I’m sorry,” he says, tears leaving dark trails of mascara down his cheeks. “I don’t think you’re that horrible—”

“But I could have been,” Uther says. _I would have been, in another life._ But now he’s got Arthur—Arthur!—in front of him, and he wasn’t born from him or Ygraine but he’s _their son._ He doesn’t have Ygraine’s hair or Uther’s eyes this time around, but he’s here, and Uther chokes with the need to do right by him.

He notices the frail hope in Arthur’s eyes, and he wonders if he’s waiting for him to snap, to tell him it’s all a joke and send him away. He wonders whether even though Arthur doesn’t remember, even if it’s not Uther who gave him life… He wonders if part of Arthur’s soul still carries the weight Uther put on him all those centuries ago, if he’s still hurting from having a father that was more his lord than his parent.

He wants to apologise for everything he did, for taking so long to make things right. But he knows Arthur wouldn’t understand; he’d think him silly if Uther was to thank him for finally coming back to him, unaware they were ever apart in the first place.

So he says nothing. He lets Arthur wipe the tears away from his face, even as fresh ones stream down his own.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur says again.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Uther says. “I am simply… Overwhelmed.” He stands up and embraces his son again, lets a sigh of content escape him. “Does your mother know?”

“No,” Arthur says and pulls away again. “Morgana does. She was the first person I told.”

“I see. You said you had friends in need. Is there anything we can do to help?”

“I’ve sent some of them money,” Arthur admits. “I was kind of scared you’d ask me what I was spending it on if I sent too much.”

Uther nods. “I hope it’s not too late to help them now.”

“I’ll talk to them,” Arthur says, squeezing him tighter. “There’s some charities we could give to, as well.”

“We could look into that tomorrow,” Uther suggests and gestures towards the table, but Arthur doesn’t let him go.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

It takes Uther a moment to reply. “Thank _you,_ ” he says. “For trusting me.” He kisses the top of Arthur’s head. “I’m proud to have you as my son.”

Arthur lets out a quiet sob and takes his time before he lets his father go.

 


End file.
